Incomplete

'we lead very obscure lives, i guess' she added as an afterthought.

Conversations in number 28 never came this easy. like fleeting spells of sunshine in the winter, they saved themselves usually for special occassions. a death, sadness, acheivement and every now and then when pans would clink in the kitchen. she always cooks when she thinks and one would assume she thought very little resulting in cliched turkey sandwiches with a splash of mayo and a piece of lettuce roughly chopped up to remove the decaying edges. Ones you eat when you're thinking of home. but its true, conversations in number 28 never come this easy. caution cannot always be thrown into the air.

When he walks in, the house shrinks in size. it doesn't want to provide shelter for people as disobedient as him. the air suddenly goes thick, a blatant challenge to all authority is unleashed in the air. Quickly, she asks him whether he's eaten and he lies. A thick, lazy, turkey sandwich is quite expectedly shoved under his nose. He knows she hasn't been thinking today.

Scrubs

“You’re self esteem is so wrapped up in what you do. You’re a doctor, that’s all you are, that’s how you define yourself. And you think that you’re better than me because of it.”

“Carla, I do not…”

“Admit it. Admit it right now or I’ll never respect you again.”

“Okay, sometimes that’s true…Carla, you’re a good nurse.”

“I’m a great nurse, you patronizing ass. You don’t even get it, do you? Nine years, not once I felt bad about what I do, not for one second. And then I met you.”

“Please, wait…”

“Don’t!”